Sammy I Broke the Kid
by GrammarDemon
Summary: Follows Play It Again, Sam. Dean Winchester is an adult again (or at least as tall as one), and he's stuck babysitting his former pal, Melia. He's the best Hunter there is, and he's been to Hell and back, so watching a toddler should be cake. But a mishap traveling Air Castiel causes Dean to face his worst monster yet: a teenage girl. Angst! Fluff!Feathers! Estrogen!Boobs! Booze!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Yay! It's spring and everyone's doing it! (Writing and posting multiple stories, that is.) _

_This one just won't leave my brain, so...here it is. I'm thinking it will be a quickie to play with when I stall with Dirty Deeds. Or something. My motto is: You can never have too much Dean. (I'm sure Sam would beg to differ. But in this story he's off having fun with his OFC, so who cares what he thinks.)_

_Hope you enjoy. As always, please feel free to leave reviews. :)_

* * *

**ONE**

Dean rounded the corner to Bobby's kitchen and stopped with shudder.

He'd fought monsters, battled demons, seen plenty of slaughtered humans and grown up around dead things that reanimated and tried to eat you. He'd been to Hell and back again. But this was horrific beyond Dean's wildest dreams. The noises alone were enough to give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

Annie was straddling his brother's lap with her arms around his neck and her fingers in his hair, and it looked like Sam was about to swallow her face with some slimy, open-mouthed kissing.

"Oh my God, you guys, get a freaking room!"

Sam and HisAnnie stopped eating each other's faces barely long enough to mutter, "Morning Dean".

"If I see any naughty bits, I'm puking. Just saying." Dean got his coffee and tried to ignore the moaning and squirming going on, even when it got louder. _Especially_ when it got louder.

Dean wasn't sure how he felt about the woman; she acted like she knew him, when he didn't know her at all, and it was creepy. Maybe it was just the thought that she'd changed his diapers, changed his clothes, bathed him—_shudder!_—and spent some time in his Fun Zone without it being fun at all that squicked him out. Plus, he'd been hairless at the time...

That was definitely it; she'd not only seen him naked, she'd seen him _naked_-naked and manhandled things, too. _Creepy. Just creepy. _

Other than that, he supposed, she was all right. She wasn't a demon, she smelled nice, and she made Sam happier than he'd ever seen the kid. And she made chocolate chip cookies too, which was definitely a bonus. She and Sam fit together like a kitten and a Great Dane, but what the hell. She wasn't Becky.

He wondered if she knew how to make pie.

Dean moved to pour himself a bowl of cereal. If he could just get out of there before he saw anything fleshy, he'd even have the appetite to eat it.

_Zzzzzzzp! _

At the sound of a zipper being opened, Dean whipped around to see Annie's hand going where it didn't belong-at least, first thing in the morning, before he'd had his Leprechaun cereal. "Whoa! Hold up there, girlie. Get your hand out of my brother's pants!"

He watched in disbelief as the pair dissolved into giggles and realized he'd been had. Embarrassment crawled over him and settled—of all places—in his ears, which felt incredibly hot and glowy. He narrowed his eyes at the pair of them. They broke apart and fell into separate chairs, snorting and snorking and fixing their clothes, and he tried not to think about beating the crap out of his brother on principle alone. "Not funny, Sam!"

"Yes it is," Sam giggled and wiped away some tears.

"I love the way his face crumples. He's such a prude," Annie said.

_Now wait a minute..._"I am not."

"Are." Sam grinned. "Anyhow, now that you're up—"

Annie broke into another round of laughter which had Dean automatically dropping his gaze to the front of his jeans even though he knew there was nothing going on with Mr. Happy, just because...Damn it, Sam's girlfriend made him nervous. He glared at her, which only made her smile wider. She was actually quite pretty when she smiled, all sparkly and fresh.

He and Sam needed to get back on the road. This was intolerable. "Have you started packing?"

Sam sobered. "Yeah, actually. We're all ready to go. We were just waiting for you."

"We? What 'we'?" Dean waved his spoon at them. "She's not going with us."

"Us? Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam pursed his lips. "Annie and I are going away for a few days. Bobby said we could use Rufus' cabin."

Dean remembered this being discussed. _Vaguely._ He'd hammered the scotch pretty hard the night before, going over the past six weeks with Bobby and—

he still couldn't believe it—Crowley. They'd come up with a plan to get the bitch who'd de-aged him and—

"You're going to watch Amelia for us," Sam said.

_Whut? _"I'm sorry-what?" He wasn't sure he'd heard that right. Him? Watch the Demasculator? "You're not serious."

"Of course we are." Sam stood. Annie came and stood beside him. Dean noticed the way they automatically reached for each other; Sam's hand on her shoulder, her hand on the small of his back. "Dean, we've been taking care of you for weeks; you can give me two or three days to be with Annie before we get back to business. The monsters will always be there. Please?" He turned on the puppy eyes.

_Fuck._ They were like lasers, boring into his heart and making him feel guilty. _Damn it, Sammy, sometimes I hate you. _Dean squirmed._ Fuck._ His brother was right. He owed him. Plus, he'd be a bitch if he didn't get laid after all this...whatever it was they did. "All right! But only for a few days!"

"Yay!" Annie squeaked and bounced in a way that reminded Dean of a chipmunk. She hopped over to him, reached up to put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his chest.

Dean squirmed and held his bowl of cereal over their heads so it didn't get spilled, and he tried to smile. Single armed bro-hugs, he got. Full-on_ Iwannahavesexwithyou_ hugs from women, he definitely got. But this kind of spontaneous "thank you" hug from woman who was sleeping with his brother was just…well. What the hell was it?

He didn't even know where to put his hands. What if he accidentally touched her ass? He might throw up.

"Oh, hey. Now. Yeah. Um…" He tried to smile. "That's nice. Thanks." _Oh, God help me. _He realized his smile probably appeared more like a grimace. This was just damned uncomfortable.

She let go—thank God—and he hurried to sit down before she hugged him a second time and started pushing his cereal around with his spoon, giving it his full attention so he didn't look at Annie again. _Breakfast. Gotta love it._

Sam started talking. "Okay. Dean. I made a copy of Melia's schedule for you. Now it's very _blahblahblahblah..._"

Dean wondered when they started making little multi-colored marshmallows. He remembered yellow stars, green clovers, pink hearts and...something else. Something blue. What the hell was the blue marshmallow shape? He studied one floating in the milk in the bowl of his spoon. Was that a dolphin? Or a blob?

"_Blahblahblah_ Annie blah brought over a box of _blahblahblah..._"

Blue blob shapes were probably not popular. What kid wanted to eat a blob? Dean shrugged, looked at Sam and nodded. What he really wanted to know is—who put the rainbows in the Lucky Charms? Figures. Damn rainbows were everywhere.

Like on the bumper of the Impala. That really scratched his ass. What the fuck had Cas been thinking? Dean had tried to peel the thing off the bumper the night before; it was as if it had been welded to the chrome. He'd try WD-40-ing it off, as soon as he was done with breakfast. That would probably work.

"Dean. Dean, are you listening to me?" Sam crumpled his forehead at him.

"Of course I'm listening Sammy. You said—" _Something nerdy, probably._

"Oh, Sam. Dean will be fine. Come on. Before Melia wakes up from her nap. If she sees us leaving, we'll never get out of here." Annie tugged on Sam's arm.

"All right. I just want to be sure. You know how important it is to maintain a schedule with a toddler." Sam frowned.

"I know. And you're really good at it. But I've got it under control. So go already." Dean finished his cereal and thought about drinking the milk from the bowl. But that was kind of childish.

It was also delicious. He shrugged and lifted the bowl to his lips.

When he put the bowl down, Sam and Annie were gone. He got up and went to find Bobby.

0-0-0-0-0

"What do you mean you're going on a hunting trip?" Dean stared at the older man. "By yourself? What is it? I can help you—"

"No, you can't," Bobby said, grabbing a box of shells from the safe. "You're watching Melia."

"Yeah, but Bobby. C'mon. What if—"

"I'm going _deer _hunting, you idjit." Bobby stuck the box into his pocket. "You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about me," Dean said. "I'm worried about you."

"Really? Huh. Interesting." The Hunter hurried across the room and scooped up his duffle bag. "I'll be back in a few days. Earlier if I get one. But I'm in no hurry." He fixed Dean with a stern look. "I need a vacation."

"What? First Sam, now you? You'd think taking care of a kid for a few weeks is some kind of nightmare." Dean frowned.

"Uh-huh. Have fun." Bobby said and went out.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered, following him outside. "You got your phone on you?"

"I got what I need."

"Yeah, but..." He watched him slam the trunk shut, and winced at the bang. It sounded so final. So lonely. _Like the thudding of a cell door. _He was starting to wish he'd listened to Sam. Bobby's car bounced down the drive; Dean stood on the porch, watching until it turned down the main road.

He was alone.

Behind him, the door clicked open and the hair on his neck rose.

It was awake.

0-0-0-0-0

He stood still and listened.

Breathing.

_Creepy._

Silence.

He waited.

The door ticked shut.

Dean realized he was holding his breath and released it in one long puff.

The locked clicked.

_That's not good._

He turned and tried the knob. _Nope._ Locked.

"Mela. Open the door."

No answer.

"Mela."

Nothing.

"Mela! Open this door! Right now!"

There was a movement at the window; he looked over to see the tiny girl peering out at him.

"Open the door!"

She smiled and waved. Then she disappeared. _Good._ She'd be right out. Dean waited, thrusting his hands in his pockets. It was chilly and he hadn't put his jacket on.

Or his boots.

"Mela!"

Nothing.

"Me-LA! Come on!"

Of course, he didn't have his lock pick with him. He'd just started putting his own clothes on again; Sam had locked up all his gear while Dean was out and he hadn't gotten around to getting everything organized again. Or at least in his pockets.

"MELA!" He grabbed the doorknob and tried it again. "Open this! Right now young lady or I'll..." _Do what? Shake my fist at you?_

This was ridiculous. He was Dean Winchester, for fuck's sake. He could handle a little kid—his ears pricked as the door opened, and he rushed inside.

"Dee!" she squeaked, and reached for him, a wide smile on her face and her blue-berry blue eyes dancing.

But Dean didn't care about that. He wasn't here to play. "Don't ever do that again!" he roared at the tiny demon grinning impishly up at him. And as tears filled her eyes, he realized, that was probably the wrong thing to do.

_Oh crap. _He scooped her up. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She wailed, twisting and turning in his arms like a dirvish. Her little feet battered his thighs; one time demasculated was enough. Dean dropped her quickly and she thudded to the floor with a bang.

Mela rolled, sat up and glared at him. "You no my Dee no more! You a bewy bad man! I no wike you!"

"Well, fine. I no wike oo either!" Dean glared back. _Wait a minute. What did I just say?_ "I mean...I don't like...well, no, that's not right either."

She got to her feet and moved away. Dean wanted to say she stalked—because she looked pretty pissed for someone wearing sparkly shoes and a shirt with a tutu attached to it—but moved was good enough. At any rate, she was climbing the stairs. "Oh, c'mon. Mela. Mela! Come back here. I didn't mean it." He hurried after her.

She was less than two years old and there weren't many places she could go. In the end, she ended up in his and Sam's room; Dean realized the reason he hadn't seen her when he'd gotten up was because she'd been napping on Sam's bed. He'd probably not seen her because she looked like a pillow under the covers.

Like right now. She sat in the center of the mattress with the blanket over her head.

"Come on, Mela. You look ridiculous." He tried to reason with her.

"Go 'way."

There was no way he could go 'way; if he left her alone, she could get hurt. Bobby's house wasn't exactly the safest place for a kid. There were knives and unguents and potions and poisonous herbs and booze and..._holy crap_. The place was a death trap. And Sam and Bobby had stayed here with him?

It was a wonder he was alive.

_Irresponsible assholes. Who the hell lets a little kid in a pit like Bobby's house?_ Dean sat down on his bed and stared at the lump under Sam's covers. Okay. Well...he hadn't died. So it wasn't _that_ bad. He just needed to make sure he never took his eyes off the kid, or left her alone. Not even for a second.

A second was a very long time, he realized about thirty of them, later. "Mela? You coming out anytime soon?"

"No. Go 'way."

_Okay. _Dean sighed.

There was a flutter of wings. Thank God. _Thank Cas._ Dean sighed as Cas appeared and took in the situation. The angel shook his head and turned to him. "Dean. You vewy bad man. Mela no wike you no more."

"Oh, yeah. All right. Fuck you too, Cas." Dean snapped.

"Fuck you too!" She pulled the blankets off her head; her hair stood up from the static. She looked possessed. She sounded possessed too, come to think of it. _Oops. My bad._

"That's not good." Cas sighed. "Dean. Sam was very careful not to use the f-word around you. You should do the same around Mela."

"Yeah, thanks for that, Cas. Good advice." Not. What he needed was advice on how to get through the next few days without losing his mind. And information on stuff like, _Is it kosher to use duck tape on little kids_? He figured it probably wasn't—Lisa never used duck tape on Ben, he didn't think, but he could almost guarantee she thought of it.

He wondered if a devil's trap would work.

Dean realized suddenly that Cas had been here the whole time he was little. So he knew something about taking care of tiny monsters. "Cas, buddy. You busy for the next few days?"

* * *

_I wonder where Cas will take them? Hmmm... I'm open to suggestions! _


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

Mela looked at the pair of them, then got down off the bed. Dean tensed. "Where's she going?"

"I do not know, Dean," Cas intoned.

_Freak. _Dean watched the little girl hopping across the room-didn't little kids just _walk _places, like normal people?-and go to the basket in the corner. It was, he realized suddenly, a basket of books. Kids' books. He suddenly had a vague and cloudy memory of pawing through that very basket of books himself, which was weird.

Weirder still was the memory of knowing that Dam was waiting for him, and would be waiting for him, keeping him safe.

"What the fuck?" he said before he could filter himself.

"Ah. You remembered!" Cas settled on the bed beside and slightly behind him. "That's interesting."

"It's not interesting, it's creepy. And what the hell are you doing knocking around in my head? Get out! That's private. Since when have you been eavesdropping in my brain?"

Cas shrugged. "I didn't think you'd remember being small, is all." The angel bit his lip and looked thoughtful. Or constipated.

Mela came back with a stack of books and Dean groaned. She ignored him. "Wead dis," she said, plucking the first one up and climbing up into Cas' lap.

"Hey. How come she's not sitting on my lap?" Dean blurted, shocked to realize he was a bit jealous. And he didn't even like the kid. Much. He narrowed his eyes. What the hell?

The angel shrugged. "She doesn't wike you."

"How can she not wike me? Everyone wikes-damn it -likes me!" _Except...well...me. I don't particularly like me. But some people like me._ "Sam likes me." He paused. "Well...sometimes."

"Yes, Dean." Cas opened the book. "I like this book. _Sylvester and the Magic Pebble_." He began to read.

Dean and Mela listened to the story of the little donkey who wished himself into a large boulder and then couldn't wish himself back into a donkey because he had no hands to hold the pebble as he made his wish. _Poor bastard._

"This is a kid's story? What the hell, Cas?"

"Dee say dat bad word."

_Little nark._

Cas kept reading. Sylvester got snowed on. Dean got depressed.

"What's the wock doin'?"

"Nothing."

"Why?"

"Oh, fuck me."

"Because it is a rock."

"Why?"

"Seriously? She wants to know why it's a rock?"

Cas lifted his eyes to Dean's; in them, he saw an expression of infinite patience and love, and he felt humbled. "Dean. She doesn't know anything. Her mind is a blank slate. We are the ones who write upon it, and isn't it better to write what is good and loving instead of that which is evil and harsh?"

_Well...yeah. Okay._ "But why does she ask so many questions?"

Cas tilted an eyebrow at Dean, and the corner of his mouth quirked. But he didn't answer. Instead, he returned to reading the stupid book to Princess Terror and Dean fell back on the bed with his feet on the floor and his arm over his eyes, and listened. He had a feeling these were going to be the longest few days of his life.

He heard movement and then, he felt a person sitting on his lap. He peeked under his arm at her. "What? She likes me now? All of a sudden?"

She held up her tiny hand. "Shhh. Dee. Oo is Sybester. I is de pebbah. Shh. No talk. We sit."

Cas grinned. "That's a wonderful idea, Mela. You are the magic peeble and Dee is Sylvester!"

"That's what she said," Dean muttered.

"Shhh!" Cas and Mela hushed him.

"Dean. You can't talk. You're a rock," Cas said with an infinitely patient voice.

"Well if that's the case, I'm just going to take a nap."

"Shhh!"

Dee sighed and lay still. Mela weighed next to nothing, and she was warm on his thighs. He closed his eyes and listened to Cas read the story, hoping the end was in sight. He wasn't going to lie around all day doing nothing but be a rock. An enchanted rock at that.

He wondered how many enchanted rocks-and things-there were, in the world. Anything could be a person, trapped within the confines of the object. Dean shuddered. It was a horrible thought. Would Cas know? Would he be able to see the person trapped within the object? Or would there be no hope of anyone finding them, leaving them in the thing-whatever it was-forever?

Fortunately, Sylvester's parents found the rock, and held the pebble and he was able to wish himself back to his true form. "Thank God that's over!" Dean made to sit up.

"Wead it again!" Mela squeaked, and Cas turned back to the front of the book.

"What? No!" Dean did sit up then, lifted Princess Terror off his lap and placed her on the mattress next to the angel. "I am _not _listening to that again. What the hell kind of story is that, anyway? It's a nightmare!"

Cas sighed. "It won an award. Look. Sam showed me." He pointed to the gold medal on the cover.

"Well, that's just sick. It's a story about a missing kid who's turned into a rock, and I'm not listening to it again."

Mela gave him a disgusted look. "Dee no wike Sybester. Him wikes Da Mitten."

"We can read that, then." Cas pulled another book out of the stack and he and Mela stared at him expectantly.

"Dee. Oo sit," Mela commanded, and pointed to the spot beside her. "Ass wead Da Mitten."

Dean bit back a snort. "She calls you 'Ass'? Seriously?"

Cas pursed his lips. "You called me that, too."

"I did not." Dean frowned.

"Did. Now sit down and listen to the story. It _is_ one of your favorites."

"No it's not. I've never heard of it. So, how about I go outside and start trying to get that rainbow off my car and…" _Well, shit_. Mela and Cas' eyes filled with tears; he looked from one to the other and felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. So he sat down and sighed. "All right. Wead it. Ass."

Finally, after what felt like hours and hours of book reading, Melia relented and Dean bounced off the bed. He was ready to climb out the window, he was so bored.

Reading for information-like to find a spell, for example-he could do. But reading just to read didn't make sense to him. Reading stuff about bears moving into mittens was just nuts. Very Hungry Caterpillars, or Little Bears who liked to fish or weird bald kids named Harold who had purple crayons...boring. He couldn't understand how Cas and Mela didn't go insane with it. They were like Sam, who was perfectly happy to sit and do nothing but flip pages. He wasn't surprised his brother had a basket of books for him in the corner of the room; he'd probably been trying to get him to like reading.

_Ha. Didn't work, Sammy._

"Let's go do something!" He said, and scooped Mela up; her little arms went around his neck. "Cas, take us somewhere."

"Like where?" The angel tilted his head and frowned.

"I dunno. Someplace _interesting_."

0-0-0-0-0

Crickets.

Literally. Crickets. Dean heard the crickets before anything else. They might not have been crickets...just some kind of noisy insects. And birds.

And the smell-it was humid. Damp. Muddy. Green. Like decay and loam and woods. Which is where they were, Dean figured. In some kind of hot, sticky, loamy forest. Sort of like Purgatory, only greener and more humid. And with vines.

Mela tightened her grip around Dean's neck just as he tightened his arm around her little body. A drop of liquid-water, he hoped-landed on the peak of his forehead and dripped down the bridge of his nose.

Actually, there were a lot of drips. Because it had started to rain. A lot. Like, blinding rain. Dean wondered if it was possible to drown on land.

But then, just as suddenly, the torrential downpour turned to a trickle. The smell got worse. And a huge, green snake sort of appeared from above in front of Dean's face, peering at him with unblinking green eyes.

"Uh...Cas?" He didn't take his eyes off the creature, which appeared to be dangling from a tree branch. It flickered its tongue at him. Probably trying to taste them. "Where are we?"

"The Amazon rain forest," the angel said from somewhere near his elbow.

"Oh. That's nice." Dean wondered if he'd need to get his knife and if he'd have to drop Mela to do it.

"Ooh. Wook. 'Nake go bleh bleh," the little girl said.

"Hey Cas?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Why is it that when I ask to go somewhere interesting, you take us to a place where Mela could get eaten?"

"I sensed you were bored."

"Really. Cas, _really_?" He risked a glance at the angel; Cas' hair was wet and matted to his forehead. He looked like he'd just gotten out of the shower. Dean figured they all did. "Can we leave, now?"

"Where would you like to go?" Cas did that head-tilty thing that Dean privately thought of as his "confused puppy in a trenchcoat" look.

"Someplace with less giant snakes in it, maybe? Someplace safe? And dry?"

"All right, Dean."

A thought occurred to Dean, and he shouted just as he felt himself starting to blink out. "_Not_ the desert!"

There was a shift; suddenly Mela was no longer in his arms but his feet were on solid ground. He looked around for her. They were at a playground. It looked vaguely familiar, but Dean was fairly sure he'd never been here before, it was hard to tell.

The little girl was no where to be seen. Dean spun around in a circle, his heart in his throat. "Cas! Where's Mela? Where is she?"

Cas frowned. "When we altered course, she must have gotten lost."

Dean's heart began to pound. "You mean...she's _lost_?"

"That's what I said, Dean." Cas bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, peering around with his impassive stare.

"Well, go find her!" The Hunter fought not to strangle the angel standing there so...so...so freaking calm. "Where the hell is she? She could be hurt, she could be…" _Dead_. Dean's knees grew weak; he fought to stay focused.

Cas disappeared.

* * *

_Moral: Be careful what you wish for. Especially if you wish for more excitement. _

_Stay tuned..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I love to poke at Dean. Don't you? Poke, poke, pokey-poke. It makes me happy. Here, try it...it's so much fun!_

* * *

**THREE**

Dean stood there, shifting from foot to foot, trying not to worry. Cas would find Mela and everything would be fine.

But what if he didn't? A little voice niggled him. _What if she's lost forever? _

_Oh my God. _

Dean's knees grew wobbly. Why hadn't he hung on tighter to the little girl? Sure he'd been afraid she was about to kick him in the junk, but that was no reason to let her bop off and sail away during Angel Travel.

His phone rang; he lifted it up and read the screen. It was Sam. Of course. He answered it anyway. "Hey, Sammy." He tried to smile.

"Hey, Dean. It's not Sam. It's Annie. I'm just checking in. I was just worried about Amelia."

"Worried? Why would you be worried?" Dean worried.

"Actually, I was more worried about _you_. How are you holding up?"

"Me? Oh. I'm fine. Just fine. Everything's fine. How are you?" Dean looked around. Maybe the girl was actually in a play tube or something. He started off across the tot park to the tubed slide. As he got closer, he had a vague, fuzzy memory of it; it had been much larger. Now, however…he realized it was the one he'd seen on the video, the one Cas had gotten stuck in. What had the angel been thinking? There was no way he'd fit in there, even without the wings.

"We're okay. We're almost to the cabin, Sam says. It's really wooded up here. Beautiful," Annie answered.

He peeked inside; no Mela. "Uh-huh." Dean straightened. There were tons of other little kids around, jumping, climbing, running, playing—it was possible Mela was actually here and _not_ lost in the space between time and dimensions.

But Dean knew in his heart that she wasn't._ Holy crap._ Mela was lost in the Twilight Zone, and it was all his fault. _Peeeep! _A weird noise escaped Dean's throat. His knees buckled and he sort of folded up to sit on the rubberized mat carpeting the tot park.

"What the hell was that? Was that some kind of bird or…Dean? Are you okay?" Annie said.

"Huh? Yes. I'm fine." _Mela's probably not, but I'm just dandy._ He struggled not to vomit, and wondered at the reaction. He was a Hunter. He didn't throw up when faced with a little stress. _Like losing a two-year-old in a void that spanned space and time. Erp._

"Dean?" Sam's voice barked unexpectedly; obviously _HisAnnie_ had handed over the phone. "What's going on? Annie said you made a strange noise."

"So? A man makes a noise, suddenly there's a problem?" Dean frowned. Sitting here panicking and trying not to puke wasn't going to find the girl.

It didn't look cool, either.

"Everything's fine, here, Sam. Stop worrying. Go get your geek on with your girl and stop bothering me with your nonsense." He pressed the End button and climbed to his feet. _Cas, where are you? Answer me, dammit! _

He took a deep breath. _Calm._ He'd be calm. Sure, Cas was taking a hell of a long time but everything was probably fine. Mela was okay. She'd come back, safe and sound with her little glittery shoes and tutu-shirt and they'd read books for the next two days and never leave Bobby's house again. _C'mon, Cas. C'mon! _The phone rang again a few moments later. _Good._ He lifted the phone to his ear. "Thank God, Cas. Did you find her?"

"Dean! What the hell, dude!" It was Sam calling back, not Cas. _Oops._ That was the trouble with knowing someone who could hear your prayers as well as dial your number; you just assumed they'd phone you when you needed to talk to them. "What do you mean, 'Did you find her?' Her, who? Is Melia okay? Did you lose her? What's going on?"

Dean scrambled to find the appropriate lie as panic clawed at him like a Hellhound. "Calm down, Sammy. What's the problem? I just lost _you_ for a minute. Bad connection. We're at the tot park. See?" He held up his phone so his brother could hear the terrified screams of small children and their mommies coming from the other end of the…_wait a minute_… "Sammy? Yeah. She's fine. Everyone's fine. But—I gotta go." He clicked the phone off and ran toward the sound. When he rounded a climby thingy that looked sort of like a dinosaur, he saw Cas. His wings were plainly visible, black and iridescent and wrapped around a cute, teenage girl.

She was naked.

And she looked pissed.

0-0-0-0-0

It only took a moment for Cas to flash them back to Bobby's, where Dean tried not to look at the girl sitting on the sofa and huddled up in the blanket that usually perched on the couch's back. She was glaring at him, and it was nerve-wracking. "Are you sure it's her?" he asked Cas.

"I am, Dean," the angel intoned in his usual monotone voice.

"Yeah, but how can you tell? Mela was blonde and this chick's got dark hair." _And the same blueberry-blue eyes. _

"Her soul, Dean. You should know that. The body is only a covering; what I see is a human's soul. And it's definitely Mela." Cas turned to peer at her.

"Mela not happy," she said, then. "Mela mad at you, Ass. And Dee. You not my fwiend."

"Oh. Well. There's that, too." Dean winced. Her body had grown; her speech hadn't. "Calm down, Mela. We'll get this fixed soon."

"Dee no fix. Dee a poop head."

_Hey. That's just rude._ "All-righty there, young lady. I'm not a—"

_Thhhpt._ She raspberried him.

"Hey. That's not—"

"I no talk a you." She pulled the blanket over her head and all Dean's doubts about her identity vanished. He turned to the angel.

"Okay. So now what do we do?"

"Well...we could have some duice and kwakahs..."

Dean stared at Cas, who was clearly losing his mind. "We could do _what_?"

Mela tugged the blanket off her head and her hair stood on end. He noticed a small pink clip still clinging to the strands. "I wike animah kwahkahs!" she chirped.

"Ooh!" Cas bounced up and down in apparent excitement. "Yes! And duice! I know. We could have twopica fwoot duice boxes with animah kwakahs—"

"Cas, are you out of your fucking—oh, okay..." Dean trailed off, unable to squelch the excited joy in the angel's eyes. He sighed. "We'll have crackers—"

"Animah ones—"

"Whatever. And...juice?" Maybe Cas was sane and _he_ was losing _his_ mind. Dean wondered what level of crazy he'd achieve. Maybe talking-to-himself-in-public crazy, or perhaps sitting-on-a-park-bench-tossing-bread-crumbs-at-himself crazy or... "You mean 'juice', right?"

"Twopica fwoot!" Cas bounced again.

"Knock it off before you break something." Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. And then, we'll figure out what to do next with Mela."

"We could play blocks."

"No, I don't mean what we're going to do next _next_, I mean what we're going to do with her."

Cas' forehead wrinkled. "I thought we'd play blocks. I just said that."

"I mean, what about her problem?"

"Mela has a problem?" He tilted his head and peered at her with concern. She looked back at him; some kind of strange, wordless communication occurred between them, Dean was sure of it. Something like:

_So, if we keep going like this, he's going to lose his mind?_

_Yes! We'll be obscure and stupid and then his head will explode and we'll have duice and kwahkahs. And then we'll scare the crap out of your mommy and Uncle Sammy because you don't look like a little girl anymore. _

_Yaaaaay!_

He shook himself. No, they weren't plotting, they were just..._Naive_ was the nice way to think of it, he supposed. But mostly, it was just annoying as fuck. "Cas! She's like sixteen or something. And she's supposed to be, like, two. What the hell are we going to do to fix it before Sam and Annie get back?"

"Oh." Cas turned back to face him. "That's a problem?"

Yes, it was definitely a ploy to make him insane. It had to be. There was no other explanation. He chewed on the inside of his lip. _I need a drink._"You don't see that?"

"I don't, Dean. Her soul is intact. It's just that her earthly shell has changed slightly."

"Slightly!" Dean tried not to raise his voice, but it was nearly impossible. "She's got _boobs,_ Cas! You don't see that as a cause for concern?" He felt his face flush; he hadn't meant to notice the boobage, but as soon as the angel had fluttered his wings from around the girl's body, they were hard to miss. If it wasn't absolutely perverted, Dean would have actually thought Mela's ta-tas quite bodacious. But this was a little girl in a woman's body and no matter how attractive she might be, it wasn't the sort of thing he should notice. Not that he could help it. Boobs, after all, were hard to ignore.

_I am going to Hell. Again._

Beside him, Cas shrugged. "She's healthy and intact. I don't think Sam and Annie will mind that Mela's grown breasts."

Dean clenched his teeth. "Please. Cas. Don't say 'breasts'."

"Why not, Dean?"

"Because it's...it sounds so...because it's making me...just don't, okay?" _Because the word breasts sounds so..._breast-y. It reminded him of _breast-feeding_, which reminded him of _nipples_, which made it impossible not to think about boobs, which made him— _Blam! There. See? My head just exploded. Welcome to Crazy Town, population: Me._

"All right, Dean. Whatever you say." The angel settled on the couch beside Mela, radiating good will and cheer. Dean wanted to strangle him. "Can we have the kwakahs now?"

0-0-0-0-0

After admonishing the clueless couple not to leave the house (and hopefully not the couch), he drove to the closest market. He went in and bought the requested animal crackers and juice boxes (making sure he got tropical fruit-flavored punch; he remembered how getting the wrong flavor of anything became a life or death struggle with Sam when he was younger and with Ben, somewhat, too). He also made sure he bought a bottle of Hunter's Helper, as well, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

On the way back, his phone rang again. Predicatably, it was Sam. "Hey Sammy," Dean said, hoping to sound casual. "You there, yet?"

"Yeah we...hey, is everything all right?"

"What makes you say that? Everything's fine. What are you worried about?" _Nothing's wrong. No problems. Everything is awesome. Awesome!_ Maybe if he told himself that enough, he'd believe it and then Sam would believe it, too. Dean looked over at the grocery bag on the seat beside him. "I'm just on my way back to Bobby's. I went to get the kids some animal crackers and juice boxes, and they're going to play blocks."

"You left them alone? Cas and Melia? Do you think that's a good idea?" Sam bitched.

"Of course I did. Dude's a warrior angel of the Lord. He's two thousand years old. What could possible go wrong?" Dean winced. He shouldn't have asked that question. He already knew what could go wrong...and was already wondering what _else_ could go wrong. He swallowed back his fear and put on a smile. Nothing could go wrong. _Everything is. AWESOME._ "You get laid yet, or what?"

"Dean!" Sam sounded appalled.

Dean smiled. At least something was right in his world; being able to make Sammy uncomfortable brought him a sense of control and serenity. "Aw, come on. Don't be all bitchy about it."

"Jerk," Sam muttered, but Dean could hear the grin in his little brother's voice.

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, you go back to whatever you weren't doing. I'm just pulling up to Bobby's now."

"Okay. I just wanted to let you know we were here. If you need anything, like more clothes or some of Melia's toys, Cas can just zap you into Annie's. I put up some demon traps, but there are no angel wards so you're free to come and go."

"Awesome." Dean put Baby in park and peered at the house. _Oh, shit._ _Shit. No!_ "Okay, Sammy. I gotta let you go. If I don't get this duice in to the kids soon, there's gonna be a riot." _Fucking _shit_ shit._

Sam huffed a laughed. "Let me guess. Fwoot?"

"You know it, little bro. Now stop talking about juice and go have sex like a normal boy." Dean chortled with what he hoped was confidence, then pressed the End key before vaulting from the car and racing inside the house.

* * *

_Duhn duhn duhn duuuuuuhn..._

_Poor Dean. The fun never stops for him, does it? (Poke, poke. Poke!)_

_Incidentally, Flutterby Cupcake thinks this story is loaded with subliminal Destiel. If we squint, maybe we can see it...Hmmmm...wait. Turn your monitor sideways...oh! Is that...no...wait...hmmmmm..._

_If you enjoy that type of thing (Destiel, not squinting), I recommend reading her story, _Fifty First Dates_ as well as the third story in her Cassandra Teal trilogy, _Faith_. And for extremely hot Destiel (with or without subliminal messages), you can read her recently uploaded _The Pizza Man_. _

_And while you do that, I'm going to wrestle with Dean and my OFC, Isolde, in my other story, Dirty Deeds. They're giving me trouble; they keep trying to get rid of Sam so they can be alone even though I have plot points to get to. I keep thinking how happy they'd be if they could get to Rufus' cabin in _this_ story, though it might be awkward for Sam and Annie. Maybe they could go to that story. But then, what would happen to Sam there? _

_Never mind. My head hurts. Anyhow, I also need to figure out where the heck Mela and Cas have gotten to in THIS story. It can't be far; Mela needs clothes. __Maybe Cas will let her borrow The Trenchcoat. (And then she will look like a flasher. That won't cause angst for Dean at all, will it? Pokey-poke.)_

_If you're not terribly confused, please leave a review. Thank you!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Well. I __was reading The Pixar's 22 Rules of Storytelling and this one, number nine, sort of helped me get the chapter-and hopefully the rest of the story-going again: _When you're stuck, make a list of what WOULDN'T happen next. Lots of times the material to get you unstuck will show up.

_Consequently, this happened. I'm not exactly unstuck, but at least there's another chapter. I wonder why Crowley always insists on showing up? I blame Pixar. They are, apparently, the root of all evil. Bastards._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Dean leaped out of the Impala and ran toward the porch; he slowed as he got closer, though. He didn't want his big, booted feet to squish any of the tiny kittens pouring out of Bobby's front door. "Aw, Cas. What the hell, man?" He groused. And then, he sneezed. _Crap. Cats. _"Cas!"

The Warrior of the (absentee) Lord appeared. A small gray kitten clung to his shoulder; a second, larger cat sat on his head like a living helmet. Its tail draped alongside Cas' left ear and dipped under his chin like a chinstrap. Cas' blue eyes peered past the white-toed paw tapping his nose. "Hello, Dean."

Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes, unclenched his fists and deliberately counted as close to ten as he could (_six_) before he burst. "Cas! Why the _fuck_ does Bobby's front porch look like it belongs to a crazy cat lady?" He opened his eyes to glare at the clueless, cat-clad angel.

"Me-La likes kitties."

"Yeah? Well-" Dean sneezed dramatically-"I _don't_!"

Cas frowned as the kitten on his shoulder swiped at his earlobe. "You liked BooBoo."

_Deep breaths. Don't kill him. _Don't _sneeze._ "He was a beanbag kitty, and I was eighteen months old. I liked a lot of things. Like puppets and cartoons."

"You still like cartoons, Dean." One of the kittens swarming the porch appeared over Cas' other shoulder; its eyes were wide as it spotted the switching tail of the helmet-kitty, and it perched on his _other _shoulder, ready to pounce.

"It's called _anime_ and it's an art form." Dean defended himself. "Look, I'm allergic to them. Can't you just…?"

"True. Okay." The animals suddenly disappeared.

Dean breathed another sigh-this one of relief. He wasn't ready to see the angel's throat slashed by kitten claws. "I'm not going to ask where they came from or why...or where they went. But I got the stuff. It's in the car. Would you mind getting it? Please?"

The angel nodded. "I like it when you ask me to do things, Dean. Usually, you just demand."

_Seriously? _"I do not," Dean muttered.

Cas shrugged and narrowed his eyes. "Me-La is in the house," he said, and poofed off to get the juice.

Dean went into the house to find Mela. She sat on Bobby's couch with a battered-looking Barbie doll clenched in her fist.

The good news was, she no longer was naked. The bad news: she was still a teenager. And-predictably-she looked pissed. "Wheah da kitties go?" She glowered.

"Home. The kitties went home." He took in her outfit: glittery princess crown, _Hello Kitty_ t-shirt ("Figures," he muttered to himself) a filmy-materialed pink skirt,and what appeared to be a pair of boxer shorts. Whose boxer shorts they were, he didn't want to ask; they had hearts on them. On her feet, he noticed, were the same glittery shoes she wore when she was a toddler, only they were bigger. "Where'd you get the outfit?"

"Ass gave it to me." She answered, holding her chin in an aristocratic sort of a way that would have been adorable on a two-year-old but was annoying as shit on a teenager wearing a tiara and waving a Barbie doll like a sword. "I wike it."

"You _lllll_ike it."

"Dat's what Mela said. I wike it." She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. Upside down, battered Barbie also appeared to pout. "I don't wike you."

"So you've said. Repeatedly." Dean sighed and wondered what was taking Cas so long to get a bag of juice and crackers from the car. He also wondered if there was another errand he could do, some way to sneak out and get away from Princess Pouty Face and her glittery freaking shoes. She hated him. And all he'd done was try to keep her safe.

And then, he'd failed.

Looking at it from that perspective, he could understand why she was mad at him. But still, he hoped she'd eventually learn to like him again. Otherwise, it was going to be a long few days.

"I is hungry."

"You _are_ hungry."

She frowned at him. "Dat's what Mela said. I is hungry."

"Yes, but you said 'I is'. Say, '_I _am hungry'."

"Dee no hungry. Dee a poophead." She narrowed her eyes.

"Dee have a headache." He turned away before his head exploded for real. "Where the fuck is Cas?"

"You said dat bad word."

I'll say lots of bad words, he thought. "Stay right here. Don't move." He turned and started walking back out to the car, but stopped when he heard a giggle. "What?"

"Mela moved."

Dean wished God was still in Heaven. If He was, he'd pray for a quick and sudden death. It wasn't likely, of course; the Powers that Be (or were) seemed to enjoy watching him squirm, and dealing with a petulant toddler-teen was pure squirmy gold. He didn't turn around. "Stop moving, Mela."

She giggled again. Talking to her was like talking to Cas. _Literal._ And yet, while Cas did what he was told-more or less-Mela wanted to do the exact opposite. Because she was a little stone breaker. So if he told her not to move, she'd move. Then again, he could use that as a way to keep her from leaving the house. She'd be so busy moving, she wouldn't think of other ways to be contrary. Or escape. And he could, at least, keep her safe.

"Remember what I said. Don't move!"

Congratulating himself on his understanding of the toddler-turned-teen mind, he hurried out to the porch to look for Cas, and found the angel on the other side of the Impala in deep conversation with the last person...thing...demon..._damn!._..Dean expected to see. "Crowley!"

"Ah, Dean. Good to see you. Is that a bit of a headache I sense?" The King of Hell peered over the car and greeted him with a wide grin. "Aren't teens wonderful?"

"Fuck off, Crowley," Dean said.

"Listen to him, Cassie," the demon said in an strangely warm and affectionate tone. It gave Dean the creeps. "He may be grown, but his vocabulary is much the same."

Cas ignored him to address the Hunter. "Dean. Crowley and I were just talking about what's happened to Mela. We think we know caused it and how to fix it."

"Great. And you're discussing it with him _because_...?"

"Because he appeared to me with news." Cas shrugged.

"News? Are you all right? Because the last time I checked, angels and demons were playing on opposite teams." Dean glared.

"The witch who de-aged you got away," Crowley interrupted. "And I was able to confirm that this current mess is her doing."

"What? Wait a minute." Dean frowned. "Hold on. I thought you ganked her." He looked back and forth between the Warrior of the (former) Lord and the (current) King of Hell. "You _did _gank her, didn't you?"

"Weeelll, funny thing, that," Crowley started.

"It was really just a misunderstanding," Cas finished.

"More of a communications breakdown, really. It's the sort of thing that happens between Heaven and Hell-"

"Obviously. Since we aren't usually working together-"

"Never. Never working together. Well, except for that one time, with Sam-"

"And you, Squirrel. So it's to be expected-"

"Right." Cas nodded.

Crowley shrugged. "Basically, I thought Cassie had her, and _he_ thought I had her-"

"Because he _did_ have his hand on her shoulder-"

"But then in all the excitement-"

"When you started growing-"

"And you were all grouchy-"

"And naked! You were _naked,_ Dean!"

"Even so, the bottom line-no pun intended, of course. Much-is that she got away. Again."

The angel and the demon stared at Dean with embarrassed smiles on their faces.

_If only he had an angel blade right now..._"She got away," Dean repeated. And then, a thought occurred to him. A disconcerting, horrible, disgusting and yet somehow familiar and comforting one. Which was wrong on so many levels. "Are you telling me you let this witch get away because you were _distracted_? By my _junk_?" Dean glared at Castiel.

"In all fairness, Dean, you can't blame him. After all, Dean slash Cas is always a hot topic of speculation and the fact that you were naked and apparently-_growing- _was more than enough to make anybody let a witch get away," Crowley said in a pleasant tone of voice.

Dean turned the power of his wrathful gaze at him. "You _do_ realize I have a Supersoaker full of holy water in the trunk?"

The demon grinned in an ingratiating way. "Right. I'm sure you do."

"Dean. Really. It was an accident." Cas flickered, then appeared directly in front of him. The angel put his hands on his shoulders, probably to stop him if he moved to get the squirt gun. (Or maybe because he liked touching Dean, which was squicky.) "Completely understandable, given the circumstances."

Just in case, Dean let him have it. "I have one filled with holy oil, too. You want to play?"

Cas flickered back to the opposite side of the car. "Not especially."

Dean narrowed his eyes at them, then opened Baby's door and leaned in to grab the bags of snacks and his bottle of Scotch. As he stood, he twisted the top off and took a swig. _There. _That quelled the desire to scream. And kill them both. _Mostly_. He looked over the Impala's hood at the dysfunctional duo. "So..._why_ is Mela a teenager?"

"The witch was trying to get some of her age back," Cas explained.

"Because she grabbed some Hell time from me and ended up being-I dunno-twelve, maybe? That sound about right, Cassie?"

"Yes. Certainly too young to function effectively as an independent human being."

"Right. So…"

Dean took another drink before asking, "Wait. So she _gave_ years to Mela? But why? Why not some other random chick?"

"We think it's because she was following Cas. And watching you."

"Kind of like a stalker," Cas supplied. "She's vengeful. And you-you're in danger."

"Great." Dean took another drink, a deep one, so that the alcohol scorched a fiery path down his gullet. It felt far better than this conversation was making him feel. "So what are we going to do about it?"

"We're going on a witch hunt!" Crowley clapped his hands together and grinned.

"Again!" Cas clapped his hands too, a bit too enthusiastically. "Hurray!"

"Oh, fuck me," Dean said, and turned to trudge toward the house.

"There you go, Cassie. It's an open invitation," he heard the King of Hell chortle. "Go get him!"

* * *

_Oh...no. Not again. Honestly. Poor Dean. He doesn't deserve this. He's sitting on a witch's hit list with sexual innuendo on one side, a toddler-teen on the other, and no one to lean on but Johnny Walker. Awwww..._


End file.
